Nightingale
by Daerwyn
Summary: Taken from her family by her magical godmother, Cinderella is thrust into an unfamiliar world with magic she didn't even know existed. She just knows that her step-sister Anastasia is going to marry Prince Charmant, not remembering that it was her he danced with. But she's in danger and must remain in Grimmauld Place until the war ends. Will the war will keep them apart? HP AU
1. Chapter 1

Cinderella stared at the glistening buildings with a soft, wistful smile on her face. She could see the dancing, feel the music, the soft hands holding her waist as she twirled and twirled. But it wasn't the same palace. Cinderella wasn't even sure it was a palace. But it looked like Prince Charmant's. It sparkled in the sunlight like his had.

"Sing, sweet Nightingale," Cinderella sang gently, her eyes not faltering once from the brilliance as her hands scrubbed at the kitchen counter tops. "Sing, sweet Nightingale. Hi-i-i-i-igh above..." The twinkling of a bell cut the daydream sharply, and Cinderella was disappointed when the Prince she had been dancing with in her head ceased to exist immediately.

"Cinderella!" came the shouting, squeaky voices of her horrible step-sisters. Of the bride-to-be. Of Anastasia and Drizella. The bride-to-be. It made Cinderella feel like her heart was in her throat. Like she was on the ship back home, her heart feeling like it had been shattered and forced through her chest. Forced her to breathe in the shards as the world took away from her what she cared for most. Her prince. Her beautiful, kind, handsome prince. "I need your help lifting these boxes!"

Boxes. Boxes that would help her move to Belgium, to be the future Queen of Belgium. A position that had been stolen from her. She still didn't understand how it had happened. Everything had been wonderful, perfect. Her prince had come searching for her, and she had been locked away. And when she was freed, it was too late. And Lady Tremaine had shattered the second slipper. Though Cinderella had no idea how she knew it was there.

"You don't have to help that nasty girl," a withered voice sounded. Cinderella gave a shout in fright and the scrub brush tumbled from her hand into the depths of the soap and water filled sink. Cinderella spun, spotting an elderly woman, dressed in tattered rags at the dutch door, leaning on the sill. Her smile was what Cinderella was intended to be pleasant, if her teeth hadn't rotted so much.

"Goodness, you gave me a fright," Cinderella laughed quietly. "I'm terribly sorry. Would you like to have a seat?" The woman slowly pushed open the door and Cinderella quickly wiped off her wet hands onto her apron before approaching the old woman, offering an arm to help her get through the doorway. Cinderella quickly pulled out a wooden chair at the kitchen table and the woman sat heavily. "Would you like some tea?"

"If it's no trouble," the woman insisted.

"None at all," Cinderella promised lightly. She glanced towards the bells worriedly when she heard them ring once more. How long would it take until Lady Tremaine or Anastasia came down to investigate? Cinderella moved the kettle onto the stove, lighting the gas quickly before turning towards the woman. "Are you lost? Or visiting?"

"A little bit of both," the woman said with a mischievous glint in her eyes. "What is your name, dear?"

"Cinderella," the blonde said gently. She sat down next to the woman. "Who are you?"

"I'm your Godmother," the woman said simply. Cinderella felt herself frown slightly in confusion. The woman didn't look anything like either of her parents. The deep set wrinkles were burrowed around her large blue eyes. And her gray hair was frazzled. The only thing resembling her father was the eyes. It had to have been a woman on her father's side.

"I'm sorry... I don't have a Godmother," Cinderella admitted. "My step-mother is my guardian."

The woman gave a worn chuckle, patting Cinderella's hand gently. "Perhaps this will refresh your memory?" Her elder form shimmered and Cinderella gave a gasp, jerking upright from her seat as she turned into an elegant looking woman with a dark blue dress and light brown hair. She looked precisely like her father, if her father had been a woman.

"How did... how did you do that?" Cinderella gasped out.

"It's called magic," the woman said with a warm laugh. "And you have it yourself."

"What?" Cinderella murmured. "No, I don't. I..."

"Has something ever happened that you couldn't explain?" Cinderella felt many things fell under that category. "The mending of a dress after it tore? Fire's starting?" The woman glanced around the home. "Maybe hair growing back after it had been cut crudely, overnight?"

"I really wanted to go to a ball a few months ago, and I wasn't allowed," Cinderella admitted. "And once Lady Tremaine and her daughters were gone, my tattered dress turned into the most beautiful gown and my slippers were made of pure glass. And I was transported to the palace in Belgium. And at midnight, I was transported back here, my clothing still the same."

"My, that is extraordinary!" the woman cried, and it seemed that she believed every word of it, nevermind that Cinderella thought it was a bit crazy herself. "To do that all in the matter of what would you say? Minutes? Seconds? And at once, without a wand!" Her dark blue eyes held Cinderella's, and she grasped the girl's hands, pulling her back into the seat. "Your father was just like that, always showing off. Has there been anything else?"

"I can talk to mice and birds," Cinderella said after a moment of hesitation. "And they talk back."

The woman no longer seemed to be laughing. She stared at Cinderella, and her face was serious. Had Cinderella said something wrong? Oh, no, the woman really did believe Cinderella was crazy. "You can?" she asked seriously.

Cinderella swallowed and jumped when the kettle began to whistle. She moved to stand, but the woman kept her grip on Cinderella's hands, and Cinderella was forced to sit. "It started when I was young, after my father died. And it never stopped."

She met Cinderella's eyes and said in a voice that never waivered. "Do not tell anyone about this unless you're certain they won't use it against you."

Was it a horrible thing? Would she be locked up? "Why...? What's wrong with it?"

The woman gave a small sigh. "My name is Maryse Zezolla. I am your father's sister." Cinderella suspected it so. "When your father died, I lost all contact with you. I was supposed to take care of you, raise you right. But it was too dangerous. It's still too dangerous. But here isn't safe anymore. And that is why I've come."

"What do you mean it's not safe? Lady Tremaine and her two daughters are moving to Belgium in October, for Anastasia's wedding. I'll have the home to myself."

"And that is precisely why it isn't safe," Maryse stated firmly. "This home is safe, while Muggles live here. Those are those without magic, like Lady Tremaine. Once they are gone, you will be in danger. They will find you and they will hurt you until they take can convince you to give them your father's fortune."

"Father didn't have a fortune," Cinderella said quietly. "And if he did, it would have gone to Lady Tremaine."

"Not if it was a Wizarding fortune," Maryse smiled.

"Cinderella!" a voice roared in the system, the bells ringing wildly. "Help Anastasia pack her boxes into the truck!"

"We can leave right now," Maryse proposed. "And you'll never have to see them again." But leaving meant Anastasia would get married, and Cinderella would never have her chance to see the Prince again. "We'll pack your things, and we'll leave."

"But... my friends, the mice-"

"You'll be able to come back once it's safe. But we need to leave now. Before your step mother sees me." Maryse rose, and Cinderella grabbed the kettle, pulling it off the fire. "You're a good girl. Incredibly trusting. I'm going to be taking you to a group of people that will lay down their life to protect the Zezolla heiress." This was all so much. An heiress? Cinderella scrubbed floors all day. "And I have to go back into hiding."

"Hiding? I don't understand what's going on," Cinderella insisted. "Who is trying to hurt me?"

"I can't explain it here," Maryse insisted. "Take me to your room, we'll pack, and then we have to go."

Cinderella nodded and gestured towards the stairs. "Up here." And Maryse was following her, into the shabby room that gave her a spectacular view of the tall glass buildings. Her wardrobe was full of tattered dresses that had been through years of cleaning. And the brilliant shimmering blue gown from the ball. Maryse gently touched the soft fabric, as if awed.

"It's magnificent. Stitching and the detail... This is a masterpiece."

"Can I take it with me?" Cinderella asked quietly.

"Absolutely." Maryse helped her fold it before she produced a small bag, fitting all of Cinderella's things into it. Once everything was packed, she looked around the room.

"It's strange," Cinderella admitted. "I grew up my entire life in this room. And it can be packed in a single bag."

"Where you're going, you'll have much more than this. You'll live right."

Cinderella just nodded. Wherever was safest. "Do we have enough time for me to say goodbye to the mice?" she asked her godmother. Maryse hesitated slightly, before giving a short nod. "I'll be quick."

"I'll be waiting by the door."

Cinderella nodded and the woman left, her bag tight around her shoulder. Once Maryse's footsteps disappeared, Cinderella turned back towards her bed and spotted Mary, Gus, and Jaq standing at her footboard.

"I have to go away for a little while," Cinderella said quietly. "So ... take care of yourselves. No teasing Lucifer. And make sure you wash up before dinner." Tears began to cloud her vision and she quickly blinked them away. "And be nice to everyone. Don't be seen by Lady Tremaine. There's enough food for you to last a little while."

"How long will you be gone?" Mary squeaked.

"I'm not sure." Cinderella sat down on her bed, giving the small mice a soft smile. "Be sure to tell the others I said goodbye. And I will miss you all dearly." Cinderella could hear the thundering footsteps of her stepmother coming down the stone staircase over their heads. "I have to go," Cinderella said suddenly. "Goodbye."

She rushed down the stairs, and Maryse grabbed her arm. "I heard them," Maryse said urgently. "Take a deep breath." Cinderella did as ordered and filled her lungs. And then the world seemed to compress and stretch into a never ending blackness.


	2. Chapter 2

The castle was enormous and not like anything Cinderella had ever seen before. It was much, much grander than her father's home. And she would venture to guess that there were thousands of rooms. "I'm staying here?" Cinderella asked in wonder.

"No, no, dear. This is where the leader of the good side resides. And he'll be taking you someplace safe from here." It was warm, despite the harsh wind, and Cinderella held onto her elbows as they walked up a steep trail towards the castle's entrance. A courtyard filled with such ancient stone. "I won't be able to stay with you. It's too dangerous."

"The person trying to hurt me... he would have hurt my father?"

"He killed your father," Maryse said strongly. "He didn't know it at the time, but he did. Many leaders of many powerful family's fell. The Malfoys, the Blacks, the Zezollas. Any head of the family that came in contact with a cursed object fell within hours."

"He died... from a heart condition," Cinderella murmured. "That's what the doctor said."

"Muggle doctors can't explain many magical maladies." Maryse pulled the door open just slightly and gestured to her to go inside. "I can't explain much. Your father never told the magical world about you, kept you a secret. Everyone thought he had a son, an heir to the fortune. Assumed, would be better. And he encouraged the rumour. If anyone knew the truth, it would be extremely dangerous for you. Sons would be encouraged to court you, marry you for the fortune, and then you would be killed. The Zezolla fortune is one of the largest in Wizarding Britain."

"Kill me?"

"You hold influence over the entire Wizarding Britain. Whoever you side with, whoever you fund, will win. The Dark Lord knows that. Your father refused to follow him, to give him money." Cinderella felt herself frown as Maryse urged her to hurry up the dark steps. Cinderella couldn't see anything around them, save for the old stone tinted blue by the light on the tip of a stick Maryse was holding. "But he will ask you. It is a grace they don't know your name. You are the lost Zezolla."

"But what if he were to find me?" Cinderella asked, her heart picking up in speed. "How do I know he will try to kill me?"

"Oh, he will. He will not hesitate to try to break you into complying." Break her? It sounded painful. Cinderella wanted to stay as far away from that as possible. So, the Dark Lord would try to get her fortune. The same fortune she never knew she had. "Don't give him what he wants. But Albus will make sure that you never get hurt or captured. I swear to it."

Maryse spoke with so much ferocity that it made Cinderella take the words seriously - much more seriously than she felt she would have. She found it very hard to believe this maniacal man was after her, after killing her father. She had been at her father's side as he died - held his hand and listened to his words just like she had her mother two years before. He made no mention of money, or curses.

"The others that died," Cinderella said quietly. "Are their family's being hidden as well?"

"They have no family left, and those that do have family are following the Dark Lord." Oh. Cinderella followed her up the winding stairs, and after a few more minutes of silent travel, they reached a large archway with a lion standing before it.

"Sherbert lemon," Maryse stated firmly. Cinderella gave a gasp as the lion moved to the side. As Maryse moved towards the staircase, Cinderella reached a hand out to touch the stone, when Maryse cleared her throat. "We haven't much time, Cinderella."

"Sorry," Cinderella said quietly. She followed her up the stairs that appeared.

"You're just as curious as your mother. Always getting into things she shouldn't, and always dragging your father along." Maryse gave a soft laugh. "I remember getting a patronus from them one day while they were on holiday in Prague. Your mother thought it would be a good idea to climb into a cave, and she brought her father with her." Cinderella never knew that about her parents. "They got stuck and needed help out."

"That's a very nice story," Cinderella admitted. "How long ago was that?"

"Just over a year before you were born," Maryse smiled. She stopped suddenly at a door, and Cinderella nearly tripped to keep from running into her. Maryse knocked twice before pushing the door open.

Cinderella first noticed the elderly man when she was nearly halfway towards the two seats in front of the ancient desk. He looked ancient, with a long silvery beard, and his face was as elderly as Maryse's disguise. But he rose with fluidity, and he gave a kind smile with twinkling eyes as he offered Cinderella a withered hand. "My dear, it's lovely to meet you. I'm Albus Dumbledore."

"Cinderella," Cinderella said while taking his hand. "Lovely to meet you, too, sir."

"Please, take a seat."

"Do you have a place for her?" Maryse questioned as she sat, taking the bag off of her shoulder and handing it towards Cinderella. "This is yours."

Lord Dumbledore gave a smile towards Cinderella. "I like to offer my guests a lemon drop before I get into the gritty business. Would you like one, my dear?" He offered a dish full of what seemed to be sticky yellow drops. She had never heard of a lemon drop before.

"Thank you," Cinderella said quietly, selecting one and sticking it onto her tongue, as Lord Dumbledore did as soon as he set the tray down. Instantly, she recognized that it was sour and she grimaced slightly, surprised.

"As it so happens, I do have a location for you," Lord Dumbledore began. "One that will keep her very safe, so long as she promises to never leave the premises until it is safe." He glanced towards Maryse. "I can only keep her safe if she can follow these parameters."

"I promise," Cinderella said carefully. "I'm just afraid I don't understand what exactly is going on."

"Maryse, I think it's best you return to your own safe house," Lord Dumbledore began. "I will take Miss Zezolla to her safe house, and her house mate will explain the war to her in due time. He's quite acquainted with it."

"Can you just tell me who she'll be with? I want to know that she'll be in good hands, that she'll be safe-"

Albus rose from his seat, and offered a hand as he led her towards the fireplace. Cinderella watched carefully, curious. She couldn't hear what Lord Dumbledore said, but it seemed to give Maryse a sense of relief. And from that, Cinderella took that whoever she was staying with would give her the protection needed. The fireplace glowed a brilliant green as Maryse stepped into it and Cinderella gasped, rising, but Maryse disappeared in an instant.

"How on earth did that happen?" Cinderella breathed.

"Magic," Lord Dumbledore chuckled. "You'll find that just about everything can be used in some way with magic. That is called Floo traveling, and can transport a witch or wizard to any other fireplace through the use of a special Floo powder."

"Fascinating," Cinderella admitted. She slowly sank back down into her chair. "I didn't say goodbye."

"You'll see her again, when this war is over," Lord Dumbledore promised. "Now, when we take you to our location, I'm going to introduce you to your house mate. You'll most likely see him very rarely. He comes and goes with missions for me." Cinderella just nodded. "He is the same age as you, and he is very adept at magic. He can keep you very safe."

"That's all Maryse wants. And I want, of course. I never realized I was in so much danger," Cinderella admitted. "Living at my father's Manor was so quiet, and no one hardly ever came by."

"But your step family is leaving, Maryse tells me," Lord Dumbledore said. "And you will be in danger once more." She gave a small nod. "Belgium? It's a big move."

Cinderella's smile wavered slightly as she glanced towards her hands, shrugging. "Yes, Anastasia is getting married to the Belgian prince, Charmant."

"Charming," Lord Dumbledore translated. "Is he charming?"

"I think so," Cinderella said carefully. She glanced up, giving him a small smile. "It's a very big thing. The whole family is moving."

"And why not take you?"

Cinderella swallowed. "It's my father's home. I offered to watch it while they were gone, make sure that it's taken care of." Lord Dumbledore just gave a smile before nodding and offering his hand towards her, stopping just a few feet away.

"You will return to it soon, I promise you that. And I will do everything I can to make sure that it is solely your manor, and your step mother and sisters can't return." The prospect of having the manor back, of it being empty of Lady Tremaine and Drizella... it made the ache in her heart feel less horrible. No more evil cat trying to eat her friends. But she hadn't been alone in the manor since she was a little girl.

"Really?" Cinderella found herself asking. "I can't just kick them out-"

"You're old enough to live on your own, and the property is in your name," Dumbledore persuaded. "You could have kicked them out years ago and they couldn't have done anything about it." Really? She hadn't had known. Not that she would have kicked them out in the first place. She was always worried that she would have been kicked out herself.

"But they have no place to go," Cinderella admitted. "So, I couldn't have just kicked them out." Cinderella stood and placed her hand in his.

"Are you ready to go somewhere else?"

Cinderella just nodded and took a deep breath, before the crushing blackness of transporting engulfed her.

It was a small home, attached to others. And a home that Cinderella did not recognize in the slightest. Nor any of the others. "I don't understand why homes are connected like this."

"You'll find it very common throughout most Muggle architecture. Fascinating, isn't it?" Cinderella found it so. She had never seen anything like it before. "You will be safe here. Inside lives a boy named Harry Potter. He's twenty-one and it is the safest place you can be until the secret keeper dies." Cinderella glanced to the leader of the light, before nodding. "You can live in peace until this war is over."

She followed him, once he began to move, and they approached the dark, small home. "What will happen to Maryse?"

"She is in another Safe House," Lord Dumbledore explained. "But it would be dangerous to keep the two of you together. Putting all of our eggs in one basket."

"Why would that be bad? It is quick to carry them-"

"Until you drop the basket, then they all break." Oh. That made a lot of sense. Once they reached the stoop, he stopped and knocked a few times at the door. "I made sure he was home, so you could meet him right away. I'm sure this is all a shock to you, being introduced to the magical world so suddenly. But I have the upmost certainty that you will fit in wonderfully here."

Cinderella hoped so, as well. The last thing she wanted to do was not fit in in another place as well. The door swung open so suddenly that Cinderella jumped slightly, and a messy haired raven man was standing there, glancing between the two of them.

"Hello, Professor."

"Might we come in, Harry?" Lord Dumbledore questioned. "It's a bit nippy out and Miss Zezolla is not dressed for such wretched weather." Honestly, Cinderella hadn't really noticed the wind. But it was tugging at her skirt, and her long hair was wrapped back by the tie around her hair, so it wasn't getting in her face.

"Right, of course," this Harry man said. This was who she was staying with? He looked rather normal, neither too strong, nor too weak. And his vibrantly green eyes were hidden behind the black rims of his glasses.

The door shut behind them and Cinderella glanced around to see that the home was extremely dark and had a strange, musty odor that reminded her of the attic. "You'll have to forgive the home. It's extremely old and no one has lived in it enough to take care of it."

"Kreatcher does his best," Harry said with a grin, and Cinderella found herself wondering what Kreatcher was. "Yeah, it's a bit dingy, but it's safe."

"This is Cinderella Zezolla, she'll be living here until the war is over. Lord Voldemort will be looking for her as soon as her step-family moves away, and it is detrimental that she remains in our hands, and not his." Harry gave a firm nod. "She's been given instructions not to take a step outside of these doors, and I hope you'll make sure it's followed, as well." Harry only nodded again. "I think you could use another person around the house. Especially since your return from abroad."

"Absolutely, sir. It's good to have you here. Harry Potter," he said, offering her a hand.

"Nice to meet you," Cinderella said with a small smile.

"Now, if you could show her around, give her a room, and explain the war to her, Harry, I must get back to Hogwarts."

"Sure, Professor," Harry said immediately. "Uh... explain the war?"

"I'm afraid I don't quite understand it," Cinderella admitted. "I didn't even know a war was going on." He seemed increasingly surprised. Cinderella winced.

"Miss Zezolla just discovered magic a few hours ago. She is detrimental for the war, and she had no idea she was in so much danger from the Dark Lord," Lord Dumbledore explained. Harry seemed extremely surprised. "She has lived in the Muggle world all her life."

"But then why does Voldemort care?"

"She's from the Zezolla family. The oldest Pureblood family - much older than the Malfoys."

"Well, that's certainly a start," Harry admitted. "Right, I'll probably see you later, Professor. Uh, Cinderella, was it? Why don't I show you a few rooms you can pick from. And then I'll show you the rest of the house. I can take your bag from you."

"Oh, thank you," Cinderella said, and gave a small smile as he took her bag. "Goodbye, sir. Thank you for... doing what you could to keep me safe so suddenly... Extremely suddenly."

"A lot of people are requesting asylum in the war. And I could not ignore your aunt." And Cinderella appreciated it. She glanced around the foyer, finding it very compact.

"Bye, Professor." Dumbledore merely nodded and disappeared with a crack. Harry gave Cinderella small smile. "Right, so, uh, this is it, really. Living room, dining room, kitchen." He began to lead up the stairs and Cinderella followed, seeing many paintings on the wall that were equally as dark and scary. "First door on the left is the library. A lot of the books are dangerous, so I don't recommend poking around." But he began opening some doors, showing her various rooms, different colors and covered in dust. "They haven't been used in years, but Kreatcher would clean them for you."

"I love cleaning," Cinderella admitted.

"Oh, well, still, Kreatcher would like to," Harry shrugged, and she just gave a nod. "You have your pick. And it's all yours." She opted for the light blue room - well, she assumed it would be light blue, save for the dark stains on the walls. The bed had a light blue cover on the mattress, and it looked relatively clean. "I'm upstairs, third floor, right over the library. The fourth floor is pretty much empty. And the third floor just has more bedrooms."

"This is a very large home."

"It was my godfathers," Harry admitted. "He gave it to me when he died. And it looks a lot better than it did when he had it." Cinderella giggled slightly, glancing around the small room. "I'll let you settle in. Kreatcher?" A loud pop and a small figure was standing on her bed. Cinderella gasped in surprise. "This is Cinderella Zezolla. She's going to be staying here. Can you clean up her room, please?"

"Zezolla?" the creature murmured. Cinderella felt her eyebrows lift in surprise. "Kreature will do whatever Miss asks."

Harry rolled his eyes. "He's a good house-elf. When you're all set, I'll be downstairs with some tea. You can join me, and we can talk about the war."

"That sounds great. Thank you." Harry gave a look towards the elf, one that was strange on his kind face, and headed back down the stairs. Cinderella gave the odd creature on her bed a small smile. He was situating the pillows, fluffing them before he began to dust at the headboard and footboard.

Cinderella moved towards the dresser, seeing a few old photographs resting in silver frames. "You recognized my last name."

"Mistress mentioned it often," the small thing croaked. He hopped off of her bed suddenly and began sweeping at the floor with a broom that suddenly appeared. Cinderella had no idea how it got there. "It is very old and very powerful."

The sweeping seemed to be done and he was on top of the dresser, making her jump. "Kreatcher will unpack your things, Miss Zezolla."

"You don't have to clean. I like cleaning."

"Purebloods do not clean," Kreatcher stated firmly. "Especially not Miss."

"Oh, no, but really, I enjoy it. I love it very much. I cleaned my entire manor frequently." Kreatcher's massive ears fell slightly at the news. Kreatcher began to pull articles of clothing out of the bag, opening the drawers of the dresser as he folded the items and placed them. Cinderella reached for the picture frame, seeing a young man in them. He was incredibly handsome, and the tree behind him seemed to move as if in a breeze. And the man winked. Cinderella's eyes widened. "It's moving!"

"Pictures move, Miss," Kreatcher stated. "That is young Master. He died a long time ago." Oh, that was very sad. He was young, it seemed. "Where did Miss get this gown?" Cinderella glanced up, seeing her shimmering ball gown in his small hands.

"I made it... Well, it sort of appeared magically, I've been told, but I didn't know it at the time. It's beautiful." She helped him pull it from the bag and smiled softly to herself as she touched the fabric. Soft. "I went to a ball with it."

"Kreatcher will take very good care of it," he said quietly. "This is a very lovely dress. One that many young women wear when they are introduced into the world of courtship." It seemed very interesting. "But never this color. Blue has always been reserved for the Zezolla family, and no Zezolla woman has been born in decades." He glanced up at her. "Kreatcher will do anything you ask."

"I just want to make sure that it's not damaged," Cinderella said quietly.

Kreatcher gave a firm nod and moved towards the wardrobe, pulling it open and tucking the gown inside. "Miss should go to Master. The tea will be ready shortly."

"You're very kind," Cinderella admitted. "Thank you." The elf ignored her, moving back towards her bag, and pulling out more of Cinderella's cleaning gowns. Cinderella watched him for only a moment before giving a small smile. He seemed to like her, which always made Cinderella feel happy.


	3. Chapter 3

"He tried to kill you when you were a baby?" Cinderella found herself asking for nearly the third time in the last twenty minutes. Cinderella couldn't imagine how awful a man was that he would try to murder an infant. "I just don't understand how someone could do that."

Harry gave a shrug. "I don't remember that night, but that's what happened. And he won't stop killing people until I can kill him."

"But you were just a child," she said quietly. "You posed no threat to him."

"Then, perhaps, but if I got older and was super strong and amazing at dueling?" Harry grinned, as if joking. "Yeah, then the danger would have been real."

"I am sorry about your parents. Mine died when I was young as well."

"Dark Lord, too?" Harry asked. "Yeah, he was a real stickler for that."

She giggled. "No. I'm afraid it's much less dramatic than that. My father was apparently cursed. He died when I was six. His heart gave out. And my mother when I was four. I don't know what of. I was so young, and my father didn't want to scare me with any details like that, I'd imagine. I barely remember her."

"But you remember them," Harry offered. "Never remembered my parents, 'cept for my mother's scream before she died." Cinderella frowned slightly. "Sorry, that's a bit... er, graphic. I've just spent a few months in the Amazon hunting things and stuff for survival. I've lost touch on proper conversation."

"Oh, I don't mind. It's just very sad." He shrugged, as if he were used to it. "Why were you in the Amazon?"

"Research," Harry admitted. "A friend of mine is brilliant at potions, and she's been researching things to increase magical output, to make wards stronger. So I went to go look for some herbs she needed." He shrugged. "Me and this kid I went to school with, that's great at herbology."

"Oh, well that sounds very exciting. And a bit adventurous," Cinderella said kindly. "You have had such a good time."

"Sure, you could say that," Harry chuckled. The clock chimed suddenly and Harry glanced towards it. "Merlin, it's well into the night. Have you eaten yet?"

"Oh, no, I'm afraid not."

"Right, we'll have Kreatcher make some dinner. What do you like to eat?"

"I'll eat anything," Cinderella said quietly. "Thank you, for letting me stay on such short notice."

"Company is nice," Harry shrugged. "Don't get it much. The war makes it dangerous to travel frequently. So, uh, you won't really have much company either, I'm afraid. I sometimes have to leave at night and head out and do stuff for the Order. And I sleep most days. Er, sorry, in advance, if I'm not around much."

"Oh, that's alright," Cinderella insisted. "I'm intruding. You should have no obligation to go out of your way for me. Please, just continue on as normal. I'm used to being pretty solitary, so it's not really that different from home."

"Yeah, well, at least you're safe," Harry attempted. She agreed.

"So this war... has been going on for forty years?"

"Well, it stopped when I was a baby," Harry admitted. "And started back up again when I was fourteen. Been constant since. So, seven years now."

Wow. That was... and to be so young. "That's so long. I never even knew it was going on. It's in ... my world, is it?"

"No," Harry admitted. "We're working hard to keep it out of the Muggle world."

"Oh, that's good then." Yet she found that though she had many questions, she didn't know how to continue. An entire world existed outside of the one she had grown up in. A world of magic and heartache and miracles. And her aunt who she had never met before in her life, that she could recall, was living somewhere just as much in danger as she. And the very brief reunion they had was something that had made Cinderella more confused than she could ever remember being - more confused than she felt after the ball.

Dinner was presented on the table before she could muster up something to say, and she stared at it in surprise. "Kreatcher... he's pretty good at making food." But no one had even put it on the table in front of her. She glanced up from her plate to see Harry reaching for some silverware that had also appeared. "You'll get used to the magic. I know it's a bit of a shock. When I was eleven, I was told about magic and brought right to Hogwarts."

"Hogwarts is that magnificent castle?"

Harry gave a wry smile. "Yeah. Hogwarts will always be home to the kids that were students there. It's enormous and one of the safest places out there. Bit of a culture shock for someone that's grown up Muggle. But this place is pretty magic free, save for a few pictures and Kreatcher. It shouldn't be too different. A bit dingy though."

She gave a smile. "I think it has a lot of character."

"It's disgusting is what it is," Harry laughed. She had to agree, it was quite dirty. Just looking around, she could see the things that needed to clean. The things that needed to be put back in order. And while she ate the meal, they both slipped into silence. Following, Harry admitted he had some Order business, so he would be busy that night. So she said her goodnights and retired to her room.

Cinderella rose from bed long before the dawnlight, dressing herself in a simple dress tucked in the wardrobe, and quietly opened her bedroom door. The house was silent, so silent that she couldn't even hear anything breathing. The portraits that were always talking were silent as well, as if they were normal.

She climbed down the stairs, her hand sliding down the wood of the banister, and was careful around the creaking steps. When she reached the kitchen, she moved towards the closet, jumping in fright at the creature living inside.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," Cinderella insisted quickly. "I didn't mean to-"

"What does Miss want?" the creature snapped, cutting her off. It was the same creature that had helped put her clothing away. She believed it's name was Kreatcher, but it could have just been a name for it as well. She didn't want to offend, so she simply avoided trying to address him with a name.

"I was looking for a bucket," Cinderella admitted. "I was under the assumption it would be in here... I'm sorry, again. I will leave you be."

The creature stared at her for a moment before snapping his fingers. Cinderella flinched back in surprise as a bucket appeared, as well as a folded rag inside. "Kreatcher can clean, Miss."

"Oh, that's alright," Cinderella insisted. "I like cleaning. Thank you, sir. Good morning."

Kreature stared at her again as she lifted up the bucket, but Cinderella gave him a kind smile, moving to shut the door. Kreature grumbled instead, taking the door from her and slamming it shut. Cinderella jumped slightly again at the noise, and his grumpy attitude. She moved towards the sink, spotting a soap that was safe for the wooden floors, and then filled the water until the bucket was half full.

She began in the kitchen, kneeling down on her apron and tying her hair back with a headscarf, so that it wouldn't get in her eyes. She began to hum as she scrubbed, the soap suds revealing that under the dark and grime, beautiful cherry wood floors existed.

The kitchen took until dawn to clean, and afterwards, she moved towards the sitting room, starting at the door and working her way further into the room. Grimmauld Place was so strange. So dark. But it was a different dark. Where Lady Tremaine covered the windows with curtains and the furniture with sheets, Grimmauld Place was so dirty that the walls and the floors were dark. She could see the potential for a very lovely home, one that shined and sparkled.

Surely the Order preferred that over whatever this was. Anyone would prefer that.

Her hums soon turned into words, and "Sing Sweet Nightingale" was sang gently through the living room as she carefully moved furniture out of the way and continued scrubbing at the floor.

"Oh, sing sweet nightingale,  
Sing sweet nightingale  
High above me  
Oh, sing sweet nightingale  
Sing sweet nightingale  
High-"

"What are you doing?"

Cinderella gasped, the bucket sloshing and nearly spilling onto the floor but Cinderella grabbed it just in time. Harry Potter was standing there, in cotton pants and a cotton shirt, staring at her in absolute confusion.

"I-I'm sorry," Cinderella said quickly, getting to her feet and placing the rag into the bucket. "I was-I was just cleaning-I mean to say, if that's okay, of course-I didn't mean to overstep-I'm sorry, sir, I just noticed that it was-" Cinderella dropped her gaze, her hands clasped in front of her. "I'm sorry."

"No, it's fine," Harry insisted. "I heard you singing."

"I'm sorry to wake you," Cinderella winced. "I usually wake early, and the house I used to live in was much larger, so no one could really hear me."

"It was beautiful," Harry admitted. Cinderella glanced up slowly, surprised. "You don't have to do this, you know. Kreatcher cleans up around here."

"Oh, no, I like to clean," Cinderella insisted. "If it's no trouble."

"No trouble," Harry said immediately. "You can do whatever you want. I just... didn't think you'd like to clean. You're not a servant or anything here."

"Oh, well, I should be doing something to compensate for my staying here," Cinderella insisted. "It was so unannounced and I can't access any of the money I apparently have, because it would be dangerous and..." Cinderella gave him a desperate smile. "I'm sorry to impose on your home like this, Lord Potter."

"Harry," he returned. "And don't worry about it. I'm used to people coming and going. It's why this is headquarters." He gave her a warm smile. "You can, uh, keep doing what you were doing, if you want. I don't mind."

"I truly am sorry for waking you."

"I usually get up at seven in the morning," Harry said with a quick glance to the clock. Cinderella seemed surprised by that, but nodded, dropping her gaze to the bucket.

"I can start breakfast, if you'd want to eat. I'm sorry I haven't already, I didn't know you got up so early. My step-mother and my step-sisters liked to sleep in. But-"

"Why would you cook me breakfast?" Harry interrupted. "No, it's alright. I make my own breakfast. What do you like?"

"Oh, don't go out of your way," Cinderella countered, "please."

"I'm making eggs, bacon, and toast. Is that alright?"

She didn't seem to be able to deter him. "I'll eat anything," Cinderella admitted. He nodded and Cinderella quickly went to the bucket, lifting the rag and squeezing it out, before she knelt once more onto her apron and began scrubbing in front of the fireplace. She heard him leave, his soft footsteps heading towards the kitchen she had just cleaned.

Her humming resumed once more and all was silent in the house, save for the sounds of pots and pans. She did not know much about Mr. Potter, but she would gradually learn as her stay lengthened. After all, only a day was hardly enough time to learn his habits. It was why today was so important.

She moved the gate in front of the fireplace to the side and then began to empty it, tucking the rotting wood onto the dirty side of the room. The sitting room would need a good sweep and dusting. She scrubbed at the ash and soot covered tiles, managing to dirty the water so much that she doubted the tiles would ever come clean.

She lifted the bucket for nearly the eighteenth time that morning, carrying it to the back door, where she gently tossed it into the alleyway, mindful of the other objects that littered the exterior. She didn't dare step outside of the doorway, just in case something were to happen. She had been warned enough. She had a feeling the consequences would not just affect her, but her host as well.

When she approached the kitchen to refill her bucket, Harry Potter was standing at the stove, wincing as bacon grease burned his forearm as he attempted to flip it. Cinderella placed the bucket into the large sink, so deep that a small child could no doubt sit in it, before she glanced at Harry, who was jerking his hand back in pain every time more grease landed on him.

"It will scar," she informed him, "if you keep doing that. Long sleeves, or a small rag over your hand... it will help. Though you must be careful not to catch them on fire."

He glanced at her, before taking the rag clutched in his hands, spreading it over his clasped hand. Immediately, he seemed to notice a difference. "Thank you."

"It is no problem," Cinderella promised quietly. She turned on the sink, filling up the bucket once more. "How did this home come to be? It seems as though it is hardly lived in."

"My godfather gave it to me in his will," Harry told her as the bacon popped, sizzling and cracking. "He was in prison for twelve years and all of his family was gone. He came back to it like this. He never really cared for it, and when I got a hold of it, I didn't really have a chance to do anything with it. I'm busy."

Cinderella turned off the sink and picked up the bucket, heaving it over the lip, before she set it on the ground. "Are you sure it is alright if I scrub the flooring? I would completely understand if you would not like me to. I should have asked you first, and I'm terribly sorry-"

"Oh, no, don't worry about it." Harry gave her a smile, one that was kind and warm, yet again. "I'm not arguing. But breakfast is almost done, if you want to wait before you go back out there." Cinderella glanced to where two plates were sitting on the kitchen island, each filled with eggs and toast already, and they were still steaming, surprising her. How in the world did it all stay warm? He turned around, mindful of her presence by the sink, and carefully plated the bacon onto one plate and half onto another. He set the pan in the sink and it began to sizzle with the wetness from the bucket. "What do you want to drink?"

"Oh, uh, anything is fine," Cinderella admitted.

"Orange juice, then?"

"Sure," she agreed, and Harry went about that before flicking his wand. Two plates and two glasses rose in their air, and floated in front of him as he headed towards the living room.

"Easier," he said back to her.

"I'll say." Such a spell and such magic would have made her life at the manor so much easier. She followed him out, promising to get back to work on the living room later that morning. And something about Harry waking at seven in the morning... it seemed odd. Mostly because she was sure he was up well into the night. Had she truly woken him? And if so, why was he being kind to her in return? She would imagine any of her step-sisters would have been quite angry, and she was sure that Lady Tremaine would have been as well. He wasn't though. He seemed to be in a rather chipper mood.


	4. Chapter 4

She dabbed the cloth gently into the bucket of water, so that it wasn't too wet, before she wrung it out once more, and then started making small circles onto the wall, testing out an already damaged area just in case it ruined something. It didn't. In fact, the soot and dust was coming off, revealing a dark, navy blue wallpaper underneath. But it still could not be too wet, or it would be completely ruined. She didn't want to make Harry angry with her.

He had been so kind to her. It was the entrance hall, that she began on, and near the doorway in front of the home. She would do the floor next, she already had it on her list, and then the stairs leading upstairs. But nearly ten minutes of gently scrubbing had only cleaned a spot nearly the size of her head. Oh, goodness, this was going to take much longer than the floors. Especially since it was such a delicate process.

"A dream is a wish... your heart makes," Cinderella sang gently, "when you're fast asleep. In dreams you will lose you heartaches... whatever you wish for you keep. Have faith in your dreams and someday your faith will come shining through... No matter how your heart is grieving, if you keep on believing... A dream is a wish that comes true."

But the song made her just as sad as it made her happy with the memories. It was her morning song, the song that her and her friends would sing. Gus and Jack ... oh, how she missed them terribly. They must be so lonely, with no one but Lucifer and Lady Tremaine and those evil girls to keep them company.

She so wished she was able to bring them with her, but... perhaps being friends with some mice isn't necessarily the best way to socialize.

She needed to reach higher on the walls in order to get near the ceiling, as she was so short in stature, so she found a discarded chair in the sitting room, the back broken off and the perfect ledge for her to set the bucket atop, if she was careful, and then she resumed scrubbing away, humming quietly to herself.

Would she ever be able to see her friends again? She didn't think so. She hadn't even properly said goodbye, everything was such a rush. She didn't even tell Lady Tremaine she had gone. The woman must be so furious with her.

She didn't know how long she spent scrubbing the walls, but when she reached the side wall, she began to take down the portraits and paintings so that she could clean underneath. One that seemed to be quite heavy, with long curtains hanging from it, in particular, would not budge. Cinderella stepped back, frowning slightly. How on earth would she get that down?

Cautiously, she opened the curtains. Surely it wasn't a window? Afterall, there was a stairwell on the other side and a corridor to what Cinderella was sure was the cellar. Large gray eyes stared back at her. Cinderella jumped back in fright. Surely not a window. It couldn't have been. But as she reached forward hesitantly, pulling the curtain back, the face was there, and she found it was one of those curious portraits, not a painting.

But the woman looked so incredibly angry to see her. So angry that Cinderella hesitated once more. She reminded her of Lady Tremaine.

"Hello," Cinderella said cautiously. "My name is Cinderella Zezolla. Who are you?"

"HOW DARE MUDBLOODS BESMIRCH THE HOUSE OF-" the woman began to scream and Cinderella's eyes widened, as she hastily tried to quiet the painting.

"Oh, please, don't wake up Lord Potter. He would be so angry-" Cinderella began to rush out.

But the woman had stopped just as abruptly as she had started at she stared at Cinderella with something like fear. "Zezolla? As in... Amadeus Zezolla?"

"My... my father, yes," Cinderella admitted, swallowing. "I'm sorry for disturbing you. I was only cleaning and I ... I couldn't move the portrait is all and-"

"Cleaning?" the woman snapped suddenly. "Cleaning what?"

Cinderella pulled back the other curtain, still unsure if this was a good idea. "I don't know if you can see-"

"Of course I can see, you daft girl," the woman snapped. Cinderella watched as the woman's eyes took in the cleaned wall opposite of her. It was a rich mixture of navy and light blues in a pattern that reminded Cinderella much of the curtains. "My home..." the woman murmured. "My beautiful home. What has happened?"

"The walls were blackened," Cinderella said quietly. "I was just cleaning them... I'm sorry-"

"It has been fifteen years since these walls have been so clean," the woman murmured quietly, and Cinderella could hardly hear her. "Fifteen years since I died... You are Amadeus's daughter... the daughter he was so fond of."

"I was his daughter," Cinderella confirmed, "though I'm not so sure of the fondness part. I barely remember him. It's been a long time."

"Fifteen years since he married that Muggle filth," the woman spat suddenly. "Are you the Muggle's daughter-"

"My mother was Alyce Penhallow," Cinderella explained, stepping once more into what she assumed was the portrait's view. "I... do not think so."

"No... Alyce... She was my youngest's closest friend," the woman murmured. "So young when she passed. Childbirth. When Regulus got the news... oh, he was so distraught. He was named your godfather, you know. He was waiting so eagerly for news of your arrival... But when she passed, he was so upset... oh, so upset-"

"My family knew yours?" Cinderella asked in surprise.

The woman looked shocked she asked such a question. "Why, of course! Pureblood families know all of the other Pureblood families. We're related, of course." The woman tisked at her, as if truly ashamed. "Your father should have told you this. Where is he?"

"He passed, fifteen years ago."

"Yes, many of us did," the woman said almost to herself. "My portrait will not move. Put that bucket away, and stop cleaning. You are a woman and a Pureblood, you do not lift a finger to such duties."

Cinderella glanced towards the bucket a few feet from her. "But... I like cleaning."

"Like it or not, it is not becoming," the woman said sharply. "Now, leave me be."

Well, she was certainly quite rude. Cinderella said goodbye before she shut the curtains in a sharp motion and grabbed the bucket, straining the rag and working on the walls beside the portrait again. She didn't care what a woman in a portrait said about her cleaning. What would it change? She was not going to simply stop cleaning. She needed to work around her to repay Harry for taking her in.

It was the least she could do, really.

"Sing sweet nightingale, sing sweet nightingale, high above me," she sang gently, and she could hear muttering inside of the portrait, muffled by the curtains. Cinderella did her best to ignore it.

The sun was well up for breakfast by the time she finished the walls, and she dumped out the bucket only one more time before filling it up for the floors, and then if Harry was still not up, she would make breakfast for him. She just didn't wish to make anything unless he was surely going to be up on time. She had heard him, late in the night, leaving and then returning, waking her. She was so unused to being able to hear others just through the thin walls. He had returned home early in the morning, a few hours from when she usually rose, so she doubted he would be awake soon.

The floors were easier than the walls to clean, as she knew it would take much more to ruin them. The area in front of the door was particularly dirty and she spent most of her time there, but by the time she got to the staircase, it was as sparkling cherry as the other two rooms she had spent time doing.

She glanced to the clock, seeing that breakfast was nearly upon them, and she would venture to guess Harry would be waking soon. She washed up before she opened the door to a metal box, which she had seen him yesterday use to store cold products. Perhaps the meat was inside? She was not disappointed. Bacon was in a small strange package, wrapped so tightly around the bacon that it looked like there was little air. And the eggs were not in a basket, nor near a chicken coop, but instead in a similar container, individually placed so that they stood at attention. She selected a handful, taking them with her towards the stove. It was just like her own at her previous home, and she got to making breakfast.

"Miss is working too hard."

She turned in surprise at the sudden voice and spotted the small creature named Kreatcher standing in the doorway of the closet she accidentally discovered him in. She smiled politely to him. "Oh, not at all. I enjoy it. Would you like some breakfast as well. I fear I've made a few eggs too many."

"Kreature will make toast to help Miss," the small thing stated simply, and suddenly he was standing atop the counter, digging into a cabinet for a box of bread and a metal contraption. It was all so strange, these objects. "If it is okay with Miss, Kreature will wake Master Potter."

"Oh, no, you needn't wake him, just yet. He got back very late last night, he is probably exhausted. You may eat breakfast with me, if you would like to keep me company. I would love to know more about you. Your name is Kreatcher?"

"Yes, Miss, it was given to me by my Master nearly sixty-seven years ago." Goodness, he did not look that age in the slightest. "I have served the House of Black and its heirs since."

"My name is Cinderella," she told him brightly. "I'm twenty one years old and I've been cleaning my home for my step-mother and her daughters for fifteen years. I don't remember my life much before then. I was much too young. Apparently I'm a witch, I don't know anything about that. Can you do magic?"

"Of course. We house-elves have had magic longer than humans," Kreature stated almost sharply, condescendingly. "Miss will learn magic in time. Now is dark times and it is safe for Miss to be protected."

"There is a war going on, isn't there?" Cinderella asked politely. "I've only heard bits from my Godmother and Harry... I'm not aware of much."

Kreatcher was silent a moment and she watched him place a few slices of bread into the metal contraption, before pulling a lever and the bread disappeared. And then he spoke. "War is dangerous, Miss. It is best you stay out of it. My Master before Master Potter was in the war fighting for a dark man, and he is dead now." The elf seemed to choke up. "War started when Kreatcher was just finishing his training, Miss, right before he was named-" He was older than sixty-seven? Goodness! "Bad man wanted to rid the world of all Muggles and Mudbloods alike. They are filthy and should not have magic. Mistress does not approve of Master Potter's Mudblood friends in the house." Mistress? Cinderella did not see another woman living here beside her. Perhaps she was shy.

"The Dark Lord tried to kill Master Potter when Master Potter was just a baby, but he died," Kreatcher continued and then he began to explain the intricate details of the war since Harry saved the Wizarding World for the first time, explaining that Harry was to do it again, soon, or the Wizarding World would be at its end. It was such a large burden for a man as young as him to bear.

"You must have loved your previous Masters very much," Cinderella said gently as she turned off the stove, and Kreatcher hurriedly grabbed two plates. "You speak fondly of them."

"Young Master Regulus was a very good man," Kreatcher stated carefully.

"Would you be so kind as to grab a third plate?" Cinderella asked. "I'll save some for Lord Potter when he wakes."

"There is already a plate for Master Potter, Miss," Kreatcher informed her.

"Do you not want to eat?" Cinderella asked, confused.

"It is not proper for a house-elf to eat with the House guests, Miss," Kreatcher stated simply, as if reciting a code he had lived by for generations.

"Oh, I... I didn't know, I'm sorry."

"Miss..." Kreatcher seemed shy all of the sudden. "Miss wished for Kreatcher to eat with her?"

"Well, of course," Cinderella insisted. "Why wouldn't I?"

"Kreatcher is a house-elf."

"Why should that matter?" Cinderella asked. "You are very intelligent and I do not wish to make you uncomfortable."

Kreatcher nodded, tears seeming to shine in his eyes as he bowed lowly to her. "Kreatcher will get another plate, Miss." She equally distributed the food, and Kreatcher placed two slices of toast onto two plates. "Kreatcher does not need a lot of food," he informed her. "House-elves do not eat much."

And then he placed a charm on what was decided to be Harry's plate, before levitating the other two plates and moving towards the dining room. "Kreatcher will finish up breakfast for Miss."

"Oh, thank you," she said, in surprise, but she watched the display of magic with interest. She followed him to the dining room and seated herself as he set a plate down, sitting across from her. Or rather, he stood, as he was much too short to sit at the chair. "What is it you do here, at Grimmauld Place?" Cinderella questioned as she lifted a fork to her mouth. "I've never seen you outside of the kitchen and that once in my bedroom."

"A good house-elf is never seen, Miss," Kreatcher informed her. "Kreatcher cleans and cooks for Master and his guests." His ears seemed to drop slightly, as if sad. "Master is not letting Kreatcher cook breakfast anymore, he likes it. And Miss likes to clean, too."

"Oh, I... if you wish for me to stop, I will," Cinderella said carefully. "I didn't mean to-"

"No, Miss is very good. Miss may stop only if she wishes," Kreatcher interrupted. Then his ears dropped further. "Kreatcher did not mean to interrupt Miss."

"Oh, it's alright. I don't mind," Cinderella said politely. "This home is very nice. You have done a very good job."

"Kreatcher has done a very bad job," Kreatcher said quietly, poking at the eggs before him. "Miss has proven that in the short time she has been here. Kreatcher has not kept the house clean, and Kreatcher has only been keeping it dust free. Kreatcher is ashamed to have failed Mistress, Miss, and Master Potter."

"Oh, I don't think you've failed, not at all," Cinderella insisted, hoping to placate the elf. "In fact, I think you've done exactly as anyone would have done in a home that has not been properly lived in for a very long time."

"Kreatcher would like to help Miss clean, if Miss allows. Kreatcher did not want to say earlier, because he did not know if Miss would be angry with the question. Kreatcher would very much like to clean, too."

"Oh, I would love it," Cinderella insisted, smiling to the elf so kindly that his ears perked up once more. "I don't think I could ever be angry with you. You've been nothing but kind. You can do whatever you wish when I'm around. If it is alright with Lord Potter, of course. I do not want to overstep his orders."

"Master Potter does not care what Kreatcher does."

It was settled. They decided to work on an empty room after breakfast, together, and Kreatcher insisted that he did not need to find another bucket. He would be fine. He also insisted on starting on the walls first, and she could do the floors. She did not argue, as he knew the home best.

She washed the plates, still seeing steam rising from the breakfast saved for Harry, and then filled up the bucket, using the same soap as always. It seemed that when she used it, it contained cleaning properties that no ordinary soap possessed. After all, it would take her much longer to clean if it were normal. She only guessed it was magical and therefore much stronger than what she normally used.

Kreatcher was already working in the top corner of the room as she entered, finding the walls covered with faces of family members that all looked similar, names and dates etched underneath. In his hands he had another rag that was already wet and did not seem to need to be put in the water. Again, she assumed magic.

And he was floating. It was a strange sight, seeing such a thing as if it were normal, and she faltered slightly, staring up at him, before she flushed. Staring was rude, gravely so, and she shouldn't do it, no matter what was happening.

She began in the opposite corner, finding the room to be dark compared to the others for an entirely different reason. With the sitting room, she drew back the curtains to give her the natural light of day, and with the hall, there were lamps that were always lit, and only grew brighter when someone entered the room. This room, however, had a single light hanging from the ceiling, and it was very dim.

She found cleaning the cracks of where the floor and wall met to be the most difficult. Too much water, and the wood would be damaged. And she couldn't simply leave them untouched, for it would look weird. So, she treated them much like the walls, though it took much more effort, and more time.

But it was much more difficult than the walls, as the floors were much more dirty and were so covered in grime that she could barely see the grain of the wood. It was very nearly black. This room seemed to be the worst of all, yet she suspected also the least visited, at least recently.

"When Mistress died," Kreatcher spoke up suddenly, "she cast a curse on the home to be unwelcoming to any visitors until there were new residents. It is why the floors and walls are so dirty. It is to discourage people from snooping around, and to frighten them away."

Cinderella could see how the darkness would be considered frightening. "These people, on the walls... they are your Mistress's family?"

"The House of Black, yes, Miss," Kreatcher spoke up. "This is their entire generation, since this became their primary residence in 1869."

"Oh, that was so long ago," Cinderella admitted, surprised. "I didn't realize the home was that old."

"Oh, yes, Miss," Kreatcher said emphatically. "It is one of the oldest London residences of all of the Pureblood families, particularly in the city."

"And there are many Pureblood families?" The creature educated her on every Pureblood family, so many names and dates that she could not remember, for the life of her. Kreatcher also mentioned each primary residence. "Zezolla used to be in Venice, but when Master Zezolla moved to England, it was in the countryside near Manchester."

"I would look out of my window every morning and see such tall towers. It looked like a palace," Cinderella said fondly. "And it sparkled in the sunlight. Do you know what that place would be?"

"It is probably the Muggle city, Miss," Kreatcher informed her, and she could hear the distaste of the people. "They build metal buildings and towers that sound like Miss describes." She had never been to the city. Everything needed for the home was in the grounds of the Manor, and all other items were shipped directly to their door by a man paid to do so on a bicycle. This meant meats and cloth.

"They shone so brilliantly," she said softly, in response to Kreatcher. The rest of their time was spent in silence and she found he cleaned the walls much quicker than she did, though she suspected magic was involved. And once the room was finished, they both stood in the doorway, marveling at the room which seemed so much brighter already. "What was this room used for?"

"It was a tea room, long ago, Miss. But Mistress did not like being reminded of Master Sirius running away, and she locked this room up." That was so sad. "When it was originally built, though, it was meant for educating Young Masters and Young Misses."

"Really?" Cinderella asked, in surprise. "What were they educated on?"

"They were taught magic, Miss, or history of the families." Oh, how fascinating. "It usually started when Young Masters were seven, and Young Misses were nine." How curious. "Does Miss want Kreatcher to help her with another room?"

"Only if you'd like to. I was thinking of doing the dining room, next."


End file.
